


The road to the light

by Fjodor



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bellamione discord, Cissamione Discord, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-12 06:32:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16867903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fjodor/pseuds/Fjodor
Summary: This entire thing is dedicated to Menzosarres, who wanted more of this.





	The road to the light

**Author's Note:**

> This first part was written as a part of a writing workshop on discord.

“Welcome back Miss Granger,” Narcissa said, as she heard the clicks of the younger witch’s heels on the marble floor. There was a lonely echo that rang out from where she was walking. The halls of Malfoy Mansion had been emptier since the war. Lucius had been sent to Azkaban and Draco had moved out. He had wanted his connection to the Malfoy house to be as vague as he could manage to make it. 

“Good evening, Miss Black,” Hermione said as she approached the newly placed desk. While there had been many initiatives to help those that suffered under the war, none had been as reluctantly accepted as the Malfoy Care Centre. Narcissa had founded it out of gratitude of what Harry had done for her. She had been able to stop the war before it became worse for all of them.

It was a very unknown fact that the victory at the Battle of Hogwarts had not been down to Harry defeating Tom in the Grand Hall, nor had it been down to the secret tunnel that the Room of Requirements had made. If you all boiled it down, it had been Narcissa not giving up Harry’s lie as soon as she knew, there would have been so much more blood spilled that day.

After the war ended and Narcissa had opened up her house, there was only a very select group of people that frequented the facilities: a couple of professors and old students that had been informed of Narcissa’s bravery during the last meeting of the Order of the Phoenix.

“How are we feeling tonight?” she asked the girl. From what she had seen over the last couple of months, Draco had been partially right about her: she was smart and cunning, always planning for the worst possible outcome and everything else that could be connected to it.

Hermione took a seat in the hall, a couple of feet from where she had been reading her book, now abandoned on a table close by. “I’m…” she started before stalling again.

“Last year, at this moment, I created some flowers for Harry to put on his parents’ grave. We then almost died at the hand of a corpse controlled by Tom’s snake,” she let out, venting to the air before her and less so to Narcissa, “and now, when the fighting is done, I just want to have a meal with my parents. But I lost them,” she said putting her head in her hands, “I lost them.”

Narcissa noticed that there had been some tear streaks on the girl’s face, she might be the smartest witch of a generation, but she was still a witch. One that sometimes just needed to have a cry, voluntarily or not.

Hermione had pulled her legs up into the chair and sat there unmoving, save the slight jolts that ran through her as the crying demanded her breath. It was a sight not unseen in these halls; the War had put a number of people under heretofore unseen amount of stress. The Golden Trio had ridden the wave of victory all the way till the end.

But when they walked away from the battle, they had broken down one by one. Ronald had been the first that emotion overwhelmed. After the Battle had ended and they split ways to tend to the various tasks that needed doing, he had placed himself outside of the Grand Hall, weeping uncontrollably. Molly had come and fetched him, bringing in the  remainder of the Weasley clan to be miserable together.

Harry fell from his bastion when he was interviewed by the Daily Prophet. Before the interview he had been asked if they should avoid any type of questions or not to mention anything or anyone. Harry had told them that they shouldn’t have to worry about that, he  would be fine.

He wasn’t.

When running through the events at the Battle of Hogwarts, the reporter had asked him if he could have done better, save more people. As it was a strange question to him, Harry had asked for clarification. The reporter had then pulled up a list of casualties on both sides and had then asked him again, could he have done better and save more of the persons that were listed. Harry had then taken the list and started reading the names, one by one.

From what Hermione heard afterwards it wasn’t a pretty sight. He had fallen silent reading the lines, tears welling up and then steadily falling down his cheeks. When he got to Tonks he paused for a second, they hadn’t been friends for a long time but she had pulled him out of a tight corner a couple of times. Reading Lupins name hit deeper, he had been the last living connection to his father and a father figure himself during his third year.

Fred was also one that was just a kick in the groin, they had been like brothers during their school years. He had even helped to get their shop of the ground. But the name that really made him stop was the one of Colin Creevey, the boy that Harry had gotten to know in his Second year at Hogwarts. He had been a good person, helping those who needed it and protecting those who couldn’t.

At that point Harry had taken of his glasses and just started into the distance, not responding to any outside input that was given. Ginny had been called for to move him to a better place. He had eventually found a place at the shell cottage as Bill and Fleur had left it empty, joining the remainder of the order in the rebuilding of the Wizarding world.

Hermione had kept it together longer than the boys, she had quickly picked up the pieces and carried on. Her efforts to organise a temporary government had kept her busy until late august. When she finished and the ministry was up and running, basic day to day task were back on track. But that evening after there had been a party to celebrate, she had come home to an empty house in a muggle neighbourhood that she hadn’t seen for over a year.

Entering the home it was silent, there were still a couple of broken pieces of furniture from when the Death Eaters had swept through the home. These were some of the scars that the war made. It would take several more years before it could all be cleaned up, if ever.

Walking up the stairs she recalled what she had done the last time she descended these, sending her parents away had been the safe thing to do. It was vital that they were kept safe as the house hadn’t been. But she had lost them.

She had lost them….

“Miss Granger?” Narcissa asked as the younger witch had been sitting and weeping silently for the last couple of minutes. It wasn’t a complete surprise to her, she had opened her house to those in need.

And Miss Granger was certainly one of the people who made good use of it. She had spend most of her weekends and certain weekday nights at the mansion. Revering in the calm and collected atmosphere that now hung over the building. The homes library was a point of pride on her side, she enjoyed it beyond measure appreciated it for what it was.

Getting up she walked over to where the girl had sat down, it was a comfortable sofa that easily could fit two or more people. As the girl was still out of this world, repeating over and over again that she had lost them. Narcissa took a seat.

She didn’t know if it was the shift in weight on the sofa, or just her presence that tipped off the girl, but Hermione did look up from her hands. Her face was now red from crying and her eyes where all puffed up. It was a wonder that she still managed to look composed to the wold after crying so emotionally for the last couple of minutes.

But her voice betrayed her, she tried to talk a couple of times but no sound could be heard. There was still a lump in her throat preventing her from speaking. Only a shrill shriek was heard as she tried to.

“Hermione, it will be alright,” Narcissa said for the thousandth time, since she started coming here. She had found comfort more times than she had been able to count after one of her numerous breakdowns, it had always seemed safe to do it around the Malfoy matriarch. She had proven herself to Hermione, when during one of her worse moments Narcissa had stayed by her side for hours holding onto the sobbing state that she had been in at the time. She had whispered reassuring words in her ears and cradled her in her arms.

Her reaction to the older woman’s words were Suddenly noticeable over Hermione’s body, the shuddering stopped and the sobbing turned into crying. Hermione was now just letting out energy with the tears, sadness having left her, where now tiredness had taken residence.

“It will be alright,” Narcissa said as she hugged the younger witch tighter.

On the other side of the room there was a small Christmas tree – Hermione had insisted on it – its lights had been charmed to represent the living friends and family the girl still had. Narcissa knew that two of those lights must be her parents, she would find them. For the girl that she owed her life too, Harry might have told her that Draco was alive. But it had been her that kept that boy alive for the last seven years.

As the wind howled outside of the walls, she looked to the window where a flurry of snow was now visible in the light that came out of the window. As she looked back over to the girl, she missed that there was first one light that went out, followed by another a couple seconds later.

**Author's Note:**

> So This will be contiued in some capacity, don't know how exacly yet but I'll see.


End file.
